Chapter 5
SARAH
I check my watch. I still have an hour until I need to catch the bus.
It’s day two of bus life, and it’s not so bad, except for asking Griffin to adjust my work schedule, which he was fine with.
There’s also the creepy old man who believes he’s a pirate and spends our morning ride filling me in on the government spies out to steal his treasure.
Then, there’s the little issue of my refrigerator contents being down to half a gallon of milk, two or three eggs, and a random assortment of condiments and fruit.
Bus life as a single mom of two kids doesn’t afford easy access to grocery shopping, library visits, or taking the kids somewhere in an emergency. It all creates a new layer of planning and anxiety on top of what already exists.
I tap my phone—no missed calls.
I’m still hoping to hear from the garage today, and I need it to be good news—a quick and inexpensive fix. That won’t be the case because that’s not how my life works.
I tap out another message.
ME: Miles, this isn’t funny. The order is clear, and you’re required to follow it. I’m not playing your games.
My brief conversation with Miles went as expected.
The fact that I had to have it in front of the man who now holds my only form of independent transportation in his hands was the kind of suckfest that’s fitting these days.
Given that Miles actually called, there wasn’t a chance in hell I would let a growly mechanic keep me from answering.
It didn’t matter what he heard. I’m pretty sure he made up his mind about me the minute I set foot in his garage.
Plus, it was only two minutes of the same damn thing.
Me, attempting to be mature and rational, despite wanting to reach through the phone and rip his head off, and him, not giving a single shit about anything but himself.
I did, however, survive another round of threats, accusations, and manipulation. Today, I’m still standing. Yay me.
I swipe my phone to check my email, scanning for a quote even though Slade said he’d call me. Slade. Such an interesting yet fitting name.
There’s a light knock on my door. I don’t even have to look to know it’s Cory. It’s like the skinny weasel waits until I have my phone in my hand to appear as if he’s catching me in an office offense.
He clears his throat, and I set my phone aside, twisting in my chair.
“What’s up, Cory?”
He pushes his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose with one hand, the other clutching a stack of files. “I wanted to review the Connor files. You haven’t sent them yet, and the court date is tomorrow.”
I square my shoulders. “Griffin has them.”
His thin jaw flexes. “I wanted to review them when you finished compiling everything.”
“I spoke with Griffin about a separate matter this morning, and he said that wasn’t necessary.
” I refrain from smiling, and it takes effort.
His eyelids droop a little lower. “Also, my schedule is shifting slightly. Griffin approved it.” And it will be thirty fewer minutes a day that I have to deal with you.
If weasels could snarl, I’m pretty sure he would, but instead, he stands there swiping his hand underneath his nose.
“What are you working on now?” His beady, dark eyes flick to my phone and then back to me .
“Griffin received confirmation on the Sanders case and asked me to update the agreement. Kat is pulling me in on some research.”
He sniffs, extending the file folders in my direction. “Client information needs to be updated in each of these. You can contact each and ensure we have the most recent information.”
I glance at the files and then back at him. “Is it urgent?” I know it’s not, and he needs to understand I’m not his assistant.
“You should have them completed by tomorrow afternoon.” His arm wobbles, and he retracts the files when I don’t take them.
I rest back in my chair. “Isn’t that something Marcie handles?”
“She hasn’t been at her desk.”
That sounded a little defensive.
“Oh, don’t worry. She had an appointment but said she’d be back. I bet you could leave them on her desk with a note or email her. If you want, I’d be happy to deliver them.” It’ll save her from having to deal with his overt condescension.
“An appointment?” He all but rolls his eyes.
I don’t know if it’s a question or a statement, but I’d like him to get out of my office. “Yes. She’s taking care of a little feminine issue.”
I would never divulge personal information, but Marcie’s voice carried down the hall from the kitchen this morning, and the entire office was made aware of her IUD replacement.
“Who’s got feminine issues?” Kat pops her head around the doorway. “I have cramps so bad, my uterus might actually drop out on the floor.”
Cory’s eyes drift upward, his cheeks turning red while I press my lips together to keep from laughing.
“Oh hey, Cor. You wouldn’t happen to have any Midol up in that arsenal of meds you keep in your drawer, do ya?”
He tucks the folders under his arm and turns to leave. “Excuse me.” He attempts to push past her, but she sticks her arm out, stopping him .
“Seth is looking for you. Something about a large fortune and a donkey sanctuary. He thought you might be familiar with jackasses.” Her mouth pulls into a wide, fake smile.
Cory avoids eye contact as he slinks around her.
Kat’s gaze follows him down the hallway, and then she grins. “He just makes it so damn easy.” She crosses her arms over her chest, leaning against the doorjamb. “He’s intimidated by you.”
I raise an eyebrow, wondering what he has to be intimidated by.
Her shoulders drop an inch as if she can read my mind.
“You’re gorgeous, brilliant, and Griffin is loading you with the good stuff.
He’s threatened by you.” She glances down the hall.
“But if I catch him loitering in here one more time questioning your workload or wanting to review things, I will not only line his entire office with maxi pads, Griffin will be required to fire his ass.”
As far as I’ve seen, Kat and Griffin only interact when necessary. They’re business partners, but they don’t appear to be friends. I haven’t quite grasped why that is when they both seem to socialize with Seth.
The office calendar indicates that Griffin and Seth golf on Friday afternoons, weather and schedules permitting. Kat and Seth regularly meet friends for drinks and have invited me multiple times, but happy hours typically don’t include kids.
“Have you heard from Slade?”
“Not yet. I’m not sure I want to know the damage.”
“He’s a little rough around the edges, but a good one. He’ll shoot you straight and not take advantage.”
Kat has only said she helped Slade a time or two, but never how. It’s none of my business, and client-attorney privilege is real, so I haven’t asked. That doesn’t mean I’m not curious.
She glances at her watch. “I have a hair appointment at four, but if you want, I can drop you off at home.” Her nose scrunches. “I hate that you’re having to ride the bus. ”
She offered to pick me up in the mornings, but she lives on the opposite side of the city and is usually here before sunrise or heads straight to court.
“Only if it’s on your way.”
She waves a hand. “I’ll grab my stuff and hopefully have time to squeeze those babies.”
My phone buzzes, and I reach for it, hoping it’s Miles and that, by some miracle, he’s ready to be a decent human being. It’s Slade Bennett.
“I’ll meet you out front in fifteen.” Kat throws a thumb over her shoulder and disappears.
I swipe to answer. “This is Sarah.”
There’s a moment of silence before the low, grumbly voice. “It’s Slade.”
My stomach squeezes tight, knowing this will be a blow to my bottom line that I cannot afford or easily recover from.
I brace my elbows on my desk, sending up a silent prayer. “Hi. It’s nice to hear from you. I’ve been anticipating your call.” They say kill ’em with kindness, and I wonder if that works with nerves.
I hear faint banging and what sounds like a drill in the background.
“I have an estimate prepared. Do you want to go over that or have it emailed?” His cordialness remains intact.
“Let’s just rip the Band-Aid off. No need to sugarcoat it. Just give it to me straight, doc.”
This man’s severe seriousness makes me want to push every single one of his buttons just to see what happens. Life sucks enough, but to wear it as a coat of armor would be really heavy.
He releases an exasperated breath. “The wheel bearing is bad, which will require parts and labor. Your brake pads are about seventy percent worn, and I’d recommend replacing the rotors at the same time.
I checked your tires, and they’re nearly at the wear indicator.
You probably have around 5,000 miles left, but with winter coming, it’s best to replace them.
Your oil and fluids are low. According to the sticker, it’s about three thousand miles past due for an oil change.
You’re lucky your engine didn’t burn up. ”
Of course it can’t just be one thing. I rest my forehead in my hand as my stomach sinks to the bottom of the growing black hole. “What’s the bottom line?”
His deep voice proceeds through an itemized list, and I slump back in my chair, feeling like I might drown underneath the weight of the numbers.
When he’s done, it’s my turn for silence.
“Sarah.” He barks my name, and I snap to.
“Yeah.”
“How do you want to proceed?”
I fill my cheeks with air and slowly let it out. “Do I have a choice in any of this?”
“Not on the wheel bearing. The brakes and rotors could wait, but you’ll save on labor if we do them at the same time. You need your oil changed and fluids drained and replenished. Tires can wait, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”
I could puke and think about putting my head between my knees as my chest constricts to half its size. “You said you have to order parts. How long until those come in?”
“For the wheel bearing, about a week.”
Nooooo. “Is it possible to drive it in the meantime?”